


Misadventures in Babysitting

by maddienole



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Caught in the Cold, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Mr. Mistoffelees is Quaxo (Cats)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddienole/pseuds/maddienole
Summary: Munkustrap puts Tugger in charge of watching Quaxo, the Jellicle tribe's newest kit. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Quaxo & Rum Tum Tugger (Cats)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

“I have a job for you, little brother.”

Tugger groaned, aggravated at the disturbance of his afternoon nap.

“Is that a question or a statement?” he responded, rubbing his eyes.

“More of a request.”

“If it doesn’t involve food or sleeping, I’m afraid I can’t help you,” he mumbled tiredly.

Munkustrap stood at the entrance of his den, arms crossed and smile on his face. No not smile...smirk.

_Well that can’t be good._

Tugger sighed, sitting up. His elder brother would never leave him alone if he didn’t comply with whatever he wanted out of him.

“Well, what is it then?”

“Jenny wants to visit Skimble tonight and ride the evening train with him. Which I, of course, wholeheartedly agreed with. She out of anyone here deserves a break...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tugger cut in. “The _point_ please?”

Maybe he was imagining things, but Tugger swore that Munk’s smirk grew larger.

“She needs someone to watch Quaxo for the night while she’s gone.”

_He’s lost it. He’s actually lost it._

“Absolutely not.”

“Tugger...”

“No!” He stood up, brushing the dirt that clung to his fur.

“I don’t do kits, Munk. Anyone else in this junkyard would be more qualified than me.”

“I know,” the grey tabby said. “That’s why I want you to do it.”

_He’s gone mad._

When Tugger failed to respond, Munkustrap took a step forward, his expression turning serious.

“The kit has been having a hard time integrating in with the rest of the Jellicles. He’s terribly shy and hasn’t said a word to anyone besides Jenny and I. It worries me.”

_You worry over everything._

His brother did have a point though. The kit was unnaturally skittish, a fact that many have attributed to his upbringing, what little they gathered of it. Munk and Alonzo found him on patrol roughly two months ago, alone and freezing. Dealing with abandonment and near death at such a young age would certainly be traumatizing. The Jellicle protector had a soft spot for strays and outcasts, and it was clear to everyone he had taken a shine to the kit. His role as leader prevented him from raising Quaxo himself, but Jennyanydots and the other queens took him in and raised him as their own.

Tugger sighed. “Again, what does this have to do with me?”

“You’re good with other cats, Tug,” Munk replied, not breaking his gaze. “I was hoping if Quaxo would spend some time with you, it will help him open up.”

“I’m good with _queens_. Not kits.”

“Well this is an opportunity to learn.”

Tugger groaned.

“As well,” Munkustrap continued, “I’m hoping this task will teach you some responsibility.”

“Responsibility? I’m perfectly responsible!” Tugger protested.

Munk raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you are sleeping in the middle of the afternoon?”

“I....was up late.”

“Bettering yourself, I’m sure.”

“Is there anything I can do to get out of this?”

“You don’t have to do anything that you feel is beyond your abilities...”

“So then I don’t...”

“But,” Munkustrap cut in. “I will provide an incentive for you.”

Tugger paused.

“Oh?”

“The Jellicle ball is coming up soon, as you know.”

He nodded, his curiosity peaked.

“I plan to reenact _The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles_ for father this year.”

“After last year’s disaster?”

Munkustrap frowned.

“There wouldn’t have been a problem if you all had remembered your parts, but that is besides the point.”

“So what is your point then?”

“I do believe you had expressed interest in portraying the Great Rumpus Cat, correct?”

The realization dawned on the Maine Coon.

“I watch the kit, and you give me the part?”

The grey tabby nodded. “Essentially. Though you both have to be alive by tomorrow morning, of course.”

His brother must really wanted Tugger to babysit if he was willing to give him the part of the Rumpus Cat and _ruin_ the show with his antics. But then again, Munkustrap very rarely gave consideration for his own feelings. Maybe that was why he was so stressed all the time, being pulled all over the place dealing with everyone else’s problems while not giving himself enough time to deal with his own.

“Ok,” Tugger responded.

Munkustrap’s eyes widened.

“You’ll do it?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

“Yes....I know. I just didn’t expect...”

“You have such little faith in me, brother.”

“Do you blame me?” He walked over to Tugger, putting his paw on the younger cat’s shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m really think this will be beneficial for both of you,” he said earnestly.

Tugger shrugged nonchalantly.

“I do what I can.”

He watched his brother leave to fetch Quaxo, trying to ignore the growing sense of anxiety that was festering within him.

He’d never dealt with kits before, at least not this personally. Munkustrap was much better with them, though he had none of his own. Regardless, it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Right?

#

The Jellicle protector soon returned with kit in tow. The tiny tuxedo tom had wrapped itself around his legs, and didn’t seem keen on letting go.

“Come now,” Munkustrap said gently. “We discussed this, remember? You’ll be staying with Rum Tum Tugger today.”

The kit proceeded to tighten his hold on Munk’s leg.

_Well this is off to a great start._

It took another ten minutes of cajoling to get the kit to release his grip from the grey tabby tom.

_He’s so...tiny._

Kits were small, naturally, but this one was barely bigger than a newborn. He had overheard Jellylorum mentioning that this may have to do with spending the initial stages of his life malnourished. He might be small for the rest of his life. Tugger’s heart went out to him. The kit would never really be able to fight like the rest of the bigger toms and even several queens would tower over him.

“Jenny and I will pick you up in the morning,” Munkustrap said, nosing the kit’s fur. Quaxo had stopped shaking under the older cat’s touch.

_How is he so good at this?_

Munkustrap didn’t give himself enough credit when it came to interacting with other cats. He could be incredibly charming and sociable when he wasn’t stressing over something or another, and everyone in the junkyard clearly loved him. The kits especially, every one of them worshipped their benevolent protector. Maybe that’s why Tugger felt the compulsion to act out all the time, to establish himself outside of his older brother’s far looming shadow.

Munkustrap soon left, leaving Tugger alone with the kit, who was still tightly curled in a ball in the corner of his den.

_So what now?_

What did kits usually do all day? They played with other kits, right? Except this one, apparently. What did Tugger do when he was a kit?

_Annoy Munkustrap, mainly._

Maybe he should try talking to him.

“Um....hi,” he started. “My name’s Rum Tum Tugger, though most cats call me Tugger...”

The kit didn’t say a word, though he looked up at him.

_Does that mean I can keep going?_

“I’m Munk’s brother, as you probably know.”

Continued silence from the kit. Tugger was beginning to grow slightly irritated.

“What’s your name?”

What a dumb question. Of course he knew his name, everyone did. And even if he didn’t, it’s not like his brother had said the kit’s name multiple times while in the process of dropping him off. But he just wanted the kit to say something. Anything.

The kit still failed to respond.

Tugger exhaled in annoyance.

“Look kit, we’re going to be stuck with each other until tomorrow morning, regardless if either of us actually wants to be here. And I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to not sit here and stare at you in silence for that amount of time. So can you do me a solid and at least respond when I ask you a question? I know you are perfectly capable of talking.”

And...nothing.

Tugger thought he might lose it. Patience wasn’t his strong suit and this kit was pushing every last nerve he had.

He laid his head down in defeat. Maybe he was stupid for thinking the kit would talk to him. He’d been here for two months and had only spoken to his brother and Jenny. Munkustrap was wrong in thinking he was a good cat for this job. This would just be another disappointment to add on to the ever growing list.

An indeterminable amount of time passed before he heard a sound from the other side of his den. He looked up, the kit had uncurled himself and was now sitting upright. Did he...just talk?

“What was that?” he asked.

The kit averted his gaze.

_He’s scared._

Tugger got up and walked over slowly. The kit shrank back and looked around widely, trying to find an exit route.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise,” Tugger said earnestly. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. I just want to know what you said. That’s all”.

The kit looked up at him, as if trying to determine if he was a threat or not.

“Quaxo,” he whispered, almost too soft to be heard.

“Quaxo?”

“You...you asked me what my name was.”

“Ah I...yes. I did. Truth is, I already knew that. I just wanted to see if my brother was telling the truth that you were able to talk.”

He took a step closer to the kit, finding some sense of achievement when he failed to shrink back. He also seemed to stop shaking as well. Small victories, he supposed.

“You don’t like new cats much, do you Quaxo?”

The kit shrugged, kneading the ground.

“Is that why you won’t talk to anyone?”

“There’s....so many of you,” Quaxo said, voice quivering.

“I can introduce you if you want,” Tugger responded.

The kit shook his head.

“Can you take me back to Munkus, now?”

Tugger tried not to take offence.

“No can-do, kit. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me until tomorrow.”

A long moment of silence passed through the den.

“So what is it you do all day then?” Tugger finally questioned. “I mean, Jenny and my brother can’t be more fun than hanging out with the other kits.”

“I don’t want to hang out with the other kits,” Quaxo retorted.

“And why not?”

“They...” he trailed off.

“They what?” Tugger insisted.

“They won’t want to play with me.”

“Now that’s just not true. I’ve seen the kits here, they’ll play with anything and anyone.”

“I don’t know how to play,” the kit responded, looking more interested in the ground beneath him than up at Tugger.

_Now he’s just being stubborn on purpose._

“Then you learn. I’m sure they’ll teach you their games if you want to go and talk to them.”

“They won’t want to play with me,” Quaxo repeated, quieter this time.

_What is wrong with this kit?_

Tugger groaned.

“Why won’t they want to play with you?”

Quaxo didn’t answer immediately, looking close to tears.

_Oh no, I pushed him to hard._

“Hey, I didn’t mean...I didn’t...”

Why wasn’t he any good at this?

“Look, it doesn’t matter. I promise. If you don’t want to go play with the other kits than that’s fine. We can hang out. I’m pretty cool, well most of the time. Just ask the queens, they love me.”

“I’m not a queen.”

“Well you’re acting like one.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You argue like one too,” Tugger responded, smiling.

The kit frowned.

“You’re trying to get a rise out of me,” he stated, eyes narrowed.

_He may be small, but he’s clever._

“Clearly it’s working.”

“I could just stop responding to you.”

Tugger took another step closer.

“See, you could. But then how are you doing to defend yourself against my rapid fire insults?”

“You wouldn’t insult me.”

“I already have.”

Tugger wasn’t going to lie, this is the most fun he’s had interacting with any cat, period. The kit was quick on his feet and was clearly one of the few in the tribe that didn’t throw himself at Tugger.

_Not like some other kits I know._

“You’re...” Quaxo trailed off.

“What?”

“Weird.”

He shrugged.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’ve...I’ve been called weird too.”

_Seriously...did Munk rescue this kit from the circus or something?_

“There’s nothing _wrong_ with that,” Tugger responded. “Though they might not call you weird if you tried venturing outside your den once in a while.”

“That’s not why I’m weird,” he mumbled.

“Well kit, you’ll learn that everyone’s a bit weird. Jellicles are weird. That’s what makes us fun.”

Silence filled the room again.

Tugger walked over next to the kit, planting himself beside him. He could feel Quaxo flinch at his close proximity.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. “Either I sit here next to you for the next twelve hours, or you agree to let me take you outside. What’s it going to be?”

“Does it have to be for long?”

“As long as I see fit.”

“So long then.”

“Do you always see the worst in cats?”

Quaxo looked up at him, eyes wide with sorrow.

“Can you blame me?” he said quietly.

Tugger suddenly felt bad for his behavior. It was all too easy for him to be snarky. It’s who he was, or at least it was who he defined himself to be to the rest of the junkyard. But questioning an abandoned kit on his pessimistic outlook on other cats probably wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing in this situation. Sometimes he had to realize that not everyone came from a loving background or had a strong support system growing up.

“No,” he said. “I don’t blame you. And...well, I’m sorry. I mean it. But I promise the Jellicles are good cats. My brother is a good cat. The other queens and toms, they can be a bit out there yes, but they mean well. And...”

Tugger paused, trying to formulate the right words to say.

“Some may even consider me a good cat.”

Another pause.

“Sometimes. Well, occasionally………. _Well_ , I have my moments.”

For the first time, he saw the kit crack a smile.

“You are a good cat, Rum Tum Tugger,” he said.

Tugger laughed weakly.

“You haven’t known me long enough for me to annoy you yet.”

“You did annoy me. But that doesn’t make you any less of a good cat.”

Quaxo was certainly a wise little thing.

“So does this mean you’ll come out with me then?” Tugger asked hopefully.

The tiny tuxedo tom still looked unsure.

“You’ll stay with me, right?”

“I won’t leave you, kit. I promise.”

He took a deep breath.

“Ok. Lead the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tugger showed him around the junkyard, all the secret nooks and crannies that he was sure Munkustrap missed the first time around. Quaxo stayed close to him, never straying more than a couple of steps away at any given time. He could see some of the older cats staring, probably wondering why _the_ Rum Tum Tugger was hanging out with a kit and not schmoozing with the queens.

“So, what’d you do to piss Munk off enough to set you up with babysitting duties?”

The question came from Bombalurina, arguably Tugger’s closest friend. They would never be mates, not really, but he still appreciated the _benefits_ part of their friendship, and perhaps just enjoyed her company from time to time.

Quaxo quickly dashed between Tugger’s legs, shaking.

“Did I scare him?” Bomba asked, eyebrows raised.

“It’s just your face.”

“Hilarious. Seriously though, what’d you do to get stuck with this punishment?”

“Exist? I don’t know.”

He stepped backwards, forcing Quaxo back in the open.

“Anyways, it’s not a punishment. The kit and I hard having a great time. Right, short-stuff?”

Quaxo glared at him but said nothing.

Tugger looked back at Bomba, who’s eyebrows were still raised.

“ _That_ expression actually means he likes me. Poor thing is just confused.”

“I’m not confused!” Quaxo squeaked indignantly.

Tugger let out a fake gasp. “He speaks!”

Bomba rolled her eyes.

“I can only imagine what you’d be like as an actual parent.”

“You wound me Bombs. Truly.”

She bent down towards Quaxo, taking in every detail of his body.

“He’s a cute little thing, I’ll give you that. Think you can keep him alive before whomever is actually supposed to be watching him comes to collect him?”

“I’ll try my best.”

“You know _I_ can hear you,” Quaxo hissed.

He nudged the kit. “C’mon, it’s all for fun. We don’t really mean it.”

“Do we?” Bomba asked, smiling.

“Well, mostly.”

Quaxo rolled his eyes.

“You two are weird.”

“Told ya, kit. Jellicles are weird.”

Bomba turned back to Quaxo.

“Hey, make sure you keep your eye on Tugger at all times. Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

“I will,” the tiny tux said confidently.

“Good.” She rose up to face Tugger.

“And you,” she pointed at him. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid? .......Me?”

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Don’t forget sexy.”

“Can you two flirt somewhere else?” Quaxo groaned.

“Alright, alright. Lets go.”

He bid Bombalurina goodbye, steering Quaxo towards the nursery.

When the kit realized the destination, he stiffened.

“You said we weren’t going to go there!” he cried.

“It’s just going to be for a couple of minutes. It’ll be good for you.”

The kit still refused to move, so Tugger picked him up, hoping he wouldn’t end up with bruises from the kit’s kicking and thrashing.

“You _really_ want to introduce yourself as the kit who has temper tantrums?” he questioned.

“I don’t want to introduce myself at all!”

“And I didn’t want to have my nap interrupted by a stubborn little tux with communication problems, but here we are.”

The kit stopped thrashing, breathing heavily.

“Look, I promised my brother I’d try to make you more social, so we are going in there regardless of how you feel about it. When we leave you can sit in my den the rest of the night and play with dirt or whatever it is you like to do. But we _are_ going inside the nursery. Can you behave yourself?”

_Wow, I sounded like an actual parent there._

Quaxo grumbled.

“Was that English?”

“I said fine!” he spat.

_Great. Now he’s mad at me._

“Well, come on then.”

As soon as the pair entered the den, Tugger was swarmed.

“Guys look, it’s Tugger!”

“Tugger?”

“What’s he doing here?”

“Move!”

“No, you move.”

“I was here first!”

He could feel Quaxo tense up again.

_Poor kit is probably overwhelmed._

“Hey,” he whispered. “They’re not bad. Just...overexcited is all.”

Currently, the Jellicle junkyard has four kittens. Plato was the oldest, and the most mature (though that wasn’t saying much.) Pouncival was next, who liked to wreak havoc with his brother, Tumblebrutus. The youngest was Victoria, a shy white she-kit.

“Who’s that?” Pouncival asked, pointing to Quaxo.

“You have a kit?” Tumblebrutus followed.

“Of course he _doesn’t_ have a kit. That’s Munkustrap’s kit,” Plato said firmly.

“Munk doesn’t have a kit, stupid,” Pouncival shot back.

“Then who _is_ he?”

“I bet he’s Bustopher’s. Looks kinda like him.”

“Or maybe Alonzo...”

“Or maybe,” Tugger cut in. “You guys can let him speak for himself.”

He nudged Quaxo forward.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The kit froze, eyes wide.

A couple of seconds of silence passed.

“Can he talk....”

“....maybe he can’t hear.”

“Like Victoria!”

Tugger groaned. This was going nowhere. Actually, he probably just made things worse.

“....are his parents?”

“Why is he so small?”

Victoria, who up until this point sat silently in the back, stood up and made her way over to Quaxo.

The boys stopped talking and watched with curiosity.

She stepped in close to him, intently observing his features. She rubbed her muzzle against his, briefly, before withdrawing, looking slightly embarrassed.

“I...uh...hi,” Quaxo stammered.

“So he does talk!” Pouncival proclaimed.

“Told you,” Tumblebrutus said smugly.

“So,” Plato said, shoving past the younger kits. “Do you have a name? We won’t bite. I promise.”

“Uh...Quaxo,” he said softly.

Plato smiled.

“That’s cool. I’m Plato, by the way. That’s Pouncival,” he said, flicking his tail to the brown and white kitten. “And that pain in the butt next to him is Tumblebrutus. And...well, you’ve met Victoria.”

Tugger noticed the white she-kit was still shyly gazing at Quaxo.

“She’s deaf, so she can’t hear you. And she doesn’t talk. But she’s still cool though.”

Quaxo nodded.

“Yeah...”

At that moment, Jellylorum entered the den.

“What is with all this ruckus?” she questioned, glaring at Pouncival and Tumblebrutus.

“Why does she always blame me?” Pouncival complained.

“Because it always _is_ you, dummy,” Tumblebrutus returned, smirking.

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“Enough!” Jelly hissed. She looked up to see Tugger and Quaxo near the corner of the nursery.

“Looks like we have visitors.”

“We were just leaving, actually,” Tugger responded.

“And just when I thought you’d be helping out.”

“I _am_ helping out,” he protested, indicating towards Quaxo. “I’m watching this one.”

“Ah.” Jelly’s features softened when looking at the kit.

“I wonder how your brother managed to get him to leave his side.”

“Not easily.”

“Does this mean Quaxo can play with us?” Pouncival questioned.

Quaxo looked up at him, as if asking for permission.

“Uh...sure. But, well...maybe later. Still showing the kit around.”

“Cool. Games are more fun with more kits. And Jelly’s aren’t coming for another month.”

“But what if they’re.... _girls_?” Tumblebrutus said, shivering.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Victoria bristle.

“And what’s wrong with girls?” Jelly questioned.

Tumble shrank back. “Uh....n...nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. I think I’m having girls. Mother’s intuition.”

“Plural?” Tugger asked.

“Yes. There’s definitely two in here,” she said, rubbing her swollen belly.

“Well...I’m sure Gus will love that.”

The male kittens seemed to have lost interest in this conversation and started play wrestling on the floor.

He turned to collect Quaxo, but noticed the kit had run off. The tiny tux was sitting with Victoria.

_Of course he gravitates towards the one who doesn’t talk._

“C’mon kit. We’re losing daylight.”

“Bye Victoria,” he said softly.

The white kitten sadly looked on as he padded towards Tugger.

“I’ll come back. I promise. Right Tugger?”

“Well I think that’s up to Munk and Jenny. But I don’t see why not.”

He nodded towards Victoria, who seemed to have understood the message. She smiled sweetly, and waved them goodbye.

“So,” Tugger said as they left the den, “do you regret me taking you to the nursery?”

“No....I guess not.”

“So you’re going to admit I’m right?”

“No.”

The Maine Coon sighed.

“I think you just don’t like being wrong.”

“I never said _you_ were wrong,” Quaxo retorted.

“Oh? So you just like disagreeing with me then?”

Quaxo smiled. “No. But your mane fluffs up when you get mad. Munk’s does the same thing.”

Tugger tolled his eyes, suppressing a grin.

“You’re impossible, kit.”

They made their way back to Tugger’s den. Quaxo paused at the entrance.

“What’s up?”

“I’m....hungry.”

Tugger paused.

“Oh. Yeah, kinda forgot about that didn’t I? Um...what do you usually eat?”

Quaxo shrugged.

“Whatever Jenny feeds me.”

_Well that’s specific._

The tiny tux seemed to realize that his answer was unsatisfactory.

“Mice, mostly,” he added.

“Well that’s boring.”

“What do _you_ usually eat?” the kit questioned.

“Whatever I can find. Or catch. I like to vary my diet. Occasionally other Jellicles will bring back food that their owner’s have left over from dinner. Bustopher sometimes brings rice pudding for the kits.”

“What’s rice pudding?”

“You never had....actually never mind.”

“What is it?”

Tugger pondered for a second, trying to figure out how to describe the treat.

“It’s like...well it’s hard to explain. Kind of like sweet lumpy pudding.”

“What’s pudding?”

“I don’t know kit, think of like really thick milk.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Can...I have some?” Quaxo finally asked.

Tugger shook his head.

“We don’t have any here.”

“Can we get some?”

“We can’t. My brother will kill me if I take you out of the junkyard.”

Quaxo nearly leapt on him.

“Please Tugger? Please? We can be quick. _I_ can be quick. I promise. Please?”

Tugger groaned. “Kit, you’re going to get me in trouble.”

Quaxo’s eyes widened, lips trembling. “Please?”

_How can anyone say no to that face?_

“Quaxo...”

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk for the rest of the night, I won’t bother you or anything,” he insisted.

_Is that what you think you are? A bother?_

Truth be told, Tugger had grown rather attached to the kit. Quaxo succeeded in worming his way into the Maine Coon’s heart, something not easily done.

He looked back at the kit, who had gone silent waiting for Tugger to say something.

_Everlasting cat, I’m going to regret this._

“Alright,” he said, “but....”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Quaxo tackled him.

“Thank you,” he squeaked.

“Alright, alright. But listen, we go, we grab the stuff, and we leave. Clear?”

Quaxo nodded.

“Good. It’s going to get dark soon, and the last thing we need is to get stuck out of the junkyard in the middle of the night.”

The kit nodded again.

“Let’s go.”

Quaxo followed Tugger to the fence as the two prepared to leave the junkyard unnoticed. Despite Quaxo’s enthusiasm, Tugger couldn’t help but feel unease eating him from within.

_What could possibly go wrong?_


	3. Chapter 3

Tugger wasn’t a fan of humans, especially the little ones. They were grabby, and slobbery. They liked to pull on his mane and pet him with their dirty fingers. While some Jellicles had a human of their own, Tugger was not one of them.

Leaving the junkyard meant going near the humans, and trying to avoid them when possible.

“Why are you on four legs?” Quaxo asked.

“Because...well we have to act a little more like cats when we’re out here. That means we can’t stand on two legs. Or dance. Trust me, it’ll freak them out and then we’ll end up in a shelter or something.”

“You mean they kidnap you?” the kit said, fear laced in his voice.

“That’s why we stay out of their way.”

Tugger knew these streets well, having been curious enough to leave the junkyard and explore by himself way back when. The thought of adventure and the threat of danger appealed to him. And the treasures he would bring back with him made him a bit of a stud with the kittens. His spiked collar was a product of one of his earliest exploits, and he made a point to wear it everyday just to annoy his elder brother, who thought it ungainly.

He knew the restaurant where the rice pudding was made, a small place with a green tarp and a large neon sign on the window. Based on the sun’s position in the sky, it should be closing soon. Tugger knew that most restaurants at closing time threw their leftover food away in the dumpsters.

_What a terrible waste._

Perhaps for the humans, but great for hungry cats who were sick of catching rats.

He looked over at his companion. Quaxo was enthralled by the world around him, eyes wide as he took in every new sight, every new smell, every new sensation.

“Have you ever seen humans before, kit?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve never seen...anything before. This is so cool!”

“It can be.” Tugger drew the kit closer to him. “But you have to be careful. Some humans don’t like strays walking around. That’s why we need to stay hidden. Walk in the shadows.”

“Do you come out here often?”

“I used to.”

“What happened?”

“I got older.”

The kit raised his eyebrows.

“And...lazier.”

As Tugger predicted, the restaurant was in the process of closing by the time the two toms reached it.

“Be careful,” he whispered to Quaxo.

“What do we do?”

“We wait,” Tugger said, indicating the dumpsters at the side of the building. “They throw out the leftover food there.”

“How do you know?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this, kit.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“There’s always a risk coming out here. But if Bustopher can successfully come away with food from these bins, so can we.”

The pair watched as the humans came out, holding large trash bags, dumping them in the bins before going back inside.

“Can we...”

“Not yet.”

Quaxo huffed.

“Why not?”

“The humans are still here. It may not be safe yet.”

“So how do you know...”

“Just sit still and don’t move until I tell you to,” Tugger groaned, feeling a headache coming on.

_Now that the kit talks to me, he won’t stop talking._

After several minutes, Tugger padded out cautiously, sniffing the air.

“They’re gone. It’s alright to come out.”

Quaxo moved uncertainly.

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t tell you to come out if it wasn’t safe.”

Tugger leapt to the top of the dumpster.

“Stay down there,” he said.

“But...”

“No buts. Stay there,” he replied firmly.

The Maine Coon jumped into the dumpster, using his claws to tear into the trash bags.

_Pastries, pastries, coffee grounds....fantastic. If I’ve chosen the one night where they didn’t have any leftover rice pudding...._

He tore in the second bag.

_Bingo._

There it was, in two sealed containers.

“Did you find it?” Quaxo squeaked.

“I got it.” Tugger responded, leaping out of the dumpster with the food. “C’mon. Let’s go find someplace safe to eat it.”

The rice pudding was excellent as always, though perhaps not worth all the work it took to obtain it. Quaxo, however, absolutely loved it. He had no idea how the tiny kit managed to consume the entire container in record time, but Tugger ended up giving him to rest of his as well.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the humans walk by. Quaxo couldn’t take his eyes off one family, an older female who was holding the hand of a much younger one.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the Maine Coon asked gently.

Quaxo turned to look at him.

“Do you think....do you think human mothers love their children as much as cats do?”

“I...uh...”

_Was not expecting that._

“I don’t think there’s any way to know, kit.”

Quaxo looked back at the pair. The mother swung the child in the air, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“I think _that_ mother loves her child.”

“It certainly looks like it.”

Tugger could see the tears forming in the tiny tux’s eyes.

“Hey, it’s not...”

“Did your mother love you, Tugger?” Quaxo interrupted, voice wavering.

_That’s not really a question that needs answering right now._

He sighed. “I don’t know. She left me when I was very young.”

“You were abandoned also?”

“Not...not exactly. I was born in the Jellicle tribe. So even after she left, I still had my father and my brother and the rest of the queens. I wasn’t alone.”

“Why did she leave?”

That question felt awfully familiar to Tugger, who had spent a great deal of time asking the same thing.

“I don’t know. I...I don’t think she was ever really happy to be a part of the Jellicles. It doesn’t matter now.”

Quaxo pressed himself against him. Tugger wasn’t normally a cuddler, but he found comfort in the little tom.

“My mom left too,” he sniffled. “But that’s okay, because we have each other. Right?”

How did they get to this point? Somehow the simple task of getting rice pudding inadvertently opened up old wounds. Tugger never really got over his mother’s abandonment of him. He had spent so long thinking that it may have been something _he_ did, even though Munk promised him that it wasn’t his fault. Maybe that’s why the queens and his father let him get away with so much as a kit, and even perhaps as an adult. He didn’t want their pity. He wanted...well he wanted to be wanted. His brother had stepped up admirably in the parenting role, but it never quite filled the hole in his heart that the cat who had birthed him had left.

He looked down at Quaxo, wrapping his tail around him. The poor kit might not even remember his own mother. Tugger realized that he might be fulfilling the same role for the tiny tux that Munkustrap had done for him.

And surprisingly...he was okay with that.

“Yes, kit,” he said, trying to stop his voice from wavering. “We have each other.”

“Always?”

_“Always.”_

He was never more certain of anything in his life.

#

They made their way back to camp, slower than Tugger would have liked given the circumstances. It was completely dark now, and the kit just didn’t have the energy that he did on the way up.

Maybe it was Quaxo’s pride that prevented the tiny kit from asking for help, but Tugger seemed to have gotten the message and threw him on his back for the rest of the journey.

“Are we there yet?” he whined.

“Aren’t you the one who wanted to go out in the first place?”

“It’s cold,” he mumbled tiredly.

It was. With the setting sun came a chill in the air that wasn’t present before. For long haired cats like Tugger, it was a minor inconvenience. Not so much for kits like Quaxo.

Tugger hoped that nobody in the junkyard had noticed their absence. Munkustrap had a rather nervous disposition, and the Maine Coon could only imagine how his brother would react if he had found out the two of them had gone out, especially this late.

Tugger normally wasn’t prone to worry or stress, life was short after all. But even now, he felt a twist of anticipation in his stomach. Something just...didn’t feel right. Hopefully he could get the two of them back to camp in one piece, ideally before anyone had figured out that they had left in the first place.

“How you doing up there, kit?” he asked, hoping to break the silence.

He received no response.

Tugger looked over his shoulder to see the tiny tux had fallen asleep on him.

_Great. Now I’m really by myself._

He sighed, continuing his trudge.

Tugger was a cat that didn’t do well in total isolation. He liked having company, especially when that company focused their energy on him. He had a tendency to get into his own head when alone for too long, a trait he hated to admit he shared with his older brother.

It took several minutes for the chill in the air to permeate his thick layer of fur, but when it did, he felt it. He wondered how short-haired cats dealt with this for months at a time.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs.

_Someone is here._

Whatever exhaustion he was feeling before evaporated quickly as he put himself on high alert. It could be something little, maybe a squirrel or rat, but the steps were too heavy to come from animals as small as those.

Tugger’s suspicions turned out to be correct. Out of the darkness came an animal even larger than him. A pollicle, big, brown and vicious looking, who immediately focused its attention on them.

_Oh no._

“Quaxo,” he hissed.

The kit jerked. “Huh?”

“You need to run. Hide somewhere...”

“What’s happening?”

“A pollicle! Go!” Tugger shoved the kit behind him as the fearsome beast closed the gap between them.

Tugger wasn’t a fighter, not in the same way Alonzo or Munkustrap were. But he saw the thirst for blood in the pollicle’s eyes.

He was not letting that thing touch Quaxo.

Tugger lunged at it, hoping that striking first would give him the advantage. He took the pollicle by surprise, slamming the creature in the dirt.

“Tugger!” Quaxo shrieked in the distance.

“I told you,” Tugger snarled, ducking to avoid the pollicle’s paw that was intended for his face. “....to stay back!”

His advantage didn’t last long, the pollicle was stronger than Tugger and forced the Maine Coon off of him. While Tugger managed to avoid some of the blows, the pollicle finally managed to get a swipe in, raking his claws down his side.

Tugger screamed in pain, the lapse in concentration allowing the pollicle to force his opponent into the dirt.

Tugger saw no way out of this, pinned underneath the creature, who’s large size was simply too much for the Maine Coon to shake off. That, combined with his injuries, the loss of blood that was beneath him was making him light-headed. He couldn’t concentrate on something for too long, even the pollicle’s features were blurring together.

Tugger realized he wasn’t able to breathe. He was going to be crushed to death.

_I’m going to die right here._

He never really thought about how he would die. Why should he? Tugger was young, just beginning life. But he didn’t think this was how he was going to go out, suffocating in the middle of the night without anyone by his side.

No, there was someone. Quaxo. Tugger wanted to cry, thinking of the poor defenseless kit who wouldn’t stand a chance against the pollicle.

_This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have taken him out here._

He had promised to protect the kit. And he had failed.

Tugger began to black out when he saw a great flash of light out of the corner of his eye. No, not light.

Lighting.

It struck the pollicle on the side, lifting the creature several feet into the air, its limbs jerking as the electricity ran through it. The moment ended as quickly as it started, with the pollicle slamming into the ground next to Tugger, motionless.

_Is it...dead?_

For a second he did nothing, trying to comprehend the scene that played out in front of him.

_....how?_

It suddenly struck him.

“Quaxo!” he yelled out into the darkness.

He looked around widely.

“Quaxo!” he yelled again, to no success.

When he finally spotted him, his jaw dropped.

The kit was glowing. No, not glowing - _sparkling._

And then he wasn’t.

Quaxo’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he too collapsed on the ground.

_No!_

In a bout of speed Tugger didn’t realize he was capable of, he sprinted towards the fallen kit.

_No, no, no, no….._

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t.

He reached the kit, cradling his tiny body in his arms.

“Quaxo?” he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

The tiny tux was unresponsive, but breathing.

He was breathing.

_He was alive._

Tugger was too exhausted at this point to cry, but his head was still spinning.

_The kit has magic._

The Maine Coon wasn’t sure how to process this information. The Jellicles were wary of it, the memories of Macavity and his abuse still fresh in their minds. Would they accept Quaxo if they knew he was magical? Was that why he was trying to hide it?

 _“They won’t want to play with me,”_ he had told him earlier in the day.

Tugger just now understood what he meant.

He couldn’t imagine his father or brother ever kicking the kit out of the tribe, both of them too soft hearted to even consider it. But that didn’t mean Quaxo would have it easy. The Jellicles had every right to be distrustful, they feared what they couldn’t understand.

He hugged the kit tightly to his chest.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he whispered, knowing full well the kit couldn’t hear him.

They needed to get back to camp, but if that task was difficult before, it was almost impossible now. Quaxo wasn’t heavy, but he was a dead weight. And every movement left Tugger in more pain than the last. His fur was slick with blood and the slashes on his side were throbbing, not to mention his bruised ribs which made the simple act of breathing a painful endeavor.

It wasn’t a hard trek, he had certainly done it before, but Tugger’s head was pounding, the extreme loss of blood was inhibiting his sense of direction. He wasn’t sure how far he managed to get, or if he was even going the right way, before his legs gave out.

_It can’t end like this._

But it most certainly was going to. Tugger wasn’t a healer of any sort, but even he understood that he would die soon if there was nobody to close his wounds.

And he and Quaxo were alone.

_I’m so sorry, kit._

He moved to cover the kit in as much of his fur as possible, hoping the warmth would be enough for him to survive the night. As he began to lose consciousness, the only thing he could think of was the hope that one of his brother’s patrols found Quaxo before he also perished in darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing he felt was the pounding in his head. No, not pounding. Stabbing. Like someone was poking an ice pick directly in his skull. The second thing he felt was the cold. This part confused him. There were blankets on him, he could tell. Several, actually. So he shouldn’t be cold, he shouldn’t feel the chill permeating his body causing him to shake and curl up even tighter than he thought was possible.

Tugger opened his eyes, a task complicated by his throbbing head and underlying exhaustion that made even the simplest of movements a challenge to complete. At first he couldn’t see a thing, the world a mesh of colors that were melting into one another forming an indistinguishable visage.

“You’re awake,” a gentle voice said, breaking him out of his reverie.

_Jenny?_

His vision cleared enough to see the tabby queen bending over him, relief in her eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him.

_What kind of question is that? I feel awful, and I’m sure I look awful as well._

“Peachy,” he half-mumbled in response.

He swore he could see the queen roll her eyes, but then again his jumbled mind could be simply playing tricks on him.

“I’m going to fetch your brother,” she said, rising up to leave.

_Please don’t._

“You need to rest, dear. You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

He watched her turn and exit the den, leaving Tugger alone.

_What ordeal?_

He head was spinning. Trying to piece together what had happened before he blacked out was putting in more effort than he was willing to give.

It came to him, slowly. There was a pollicle, he remembered. A big one. A big one with sharp claws. He shuddered, looking down at the claw marks that graced his sides and torso. They were mostly bound with cloth and an ointment that Jenny whipped up to prevent infection, but the pain was still radiating throughout his body.

What was he doing near a pollicle?

His eyes widened as the night’s events flooded back to him.

_Quaxo!_

He was taking Quaxo out for rice pudding. He needed to find him, but before Tugger could make a move, Munkustrap entered the den.

_Oh no._

His brother was going to kill him. He was going to ban him from ever leaving the junkyard again. He was going to...

_Hug me?_

Okay...he didn’t expect that.

“You _idiot_ ,” Munkustrap whispered, arms wrapped tightly around him.

_There it is._

“You absolute idiot...”

Was his voice shaking?

“Munk? You’re uh... squishing me.”

His elder brother let go, looking slightly embarrassed.

“So uh... is this the part where you lay into me, then?” Tugger asked, trying to ignore the throbbing pain of his injuries that Munk just made worse.

“I try not to kick cats that are already down.”

“I’m sensing a _but_ in there...”

“But...what were you thinking? Bringing a kit...”

“I know,”

“...out of the junkyard....”

“I _know_ ”

“.....at night....”

“Well it wasn’t night when we left...”

They were interrupted by the sound of another voice. A much younger voice.

“Please don’t be mad at him, Munkus.”

_Quaxo!_

Tugger felt his heart lift at the sight of the little tom.

“You’re alive,” he breathed. “You....you’re okay.”

_Thank the everlasting cat._

Quaxo ran up to him, burrowing himself in Tugger’s large mane.

“It was my fault,” Quaxo finally said, looking back up at the Jellicle protector.

“I wanted to go out. It was _my_ idea. You...you can be mad at me.”

Munkustrap sighed. “I’m not mad at you, little one. And I’m not mad at my brother either.”

“You sounded like you were.”

“It’s because I was worried.”

“We didn’t mean to make you worried. Right Tugger?”

The Maine Coon nodded.

“I think he knows, kit.”

He briefly considered telling his brother of Quaxo’s...irregularities when but ultimately decided against it. That was something that Quaxo should be comfortable with telling the other cats in time, probably after he learned to control it better. He didn’t blame the kit for not telling anyone earlier, given all the whispers of Macavity and the evil cat’s magical tendencies. He was honestly impressed Quaxo was able to keep it to himself for that long.

But that was a discussion for another day.

As awful as Tugger was feeling right now, Munkustrap somehow managed to look worse. His eyes were sunken in and bloodshot, his fur disheveled. For someone who was as organized and neatly groomed as Munk, seeing him in that state was...off-putting.

“Did you sleep at all, brother?” Tugger asked, concern laced in his voice.

Munkustrap stiffened.

“I’m the Jellicle protector. It’s my job to protect everyone in this junkyard. When our search party finds two members of _my_ tribe unconscious, one an innocent kit and the other my brother.... my _little_ brother....”

He trailed off, trying to compose himself.

“How could I, Tugger? How could I possibly sleep if there was a chance that one or both of you could be gone by the time I woke up?”

_“Papa?”_

_“Yes, son?”_

_“How come Munkus gets to be the leader of the Jellicles?”_

_“Why do you ask?”_

_Tugger puffed out his chest._

_“Because I’d be a better leader.”_

_His father chuckled._

_“Oh, will you?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“And why is that?”_

_“I’m…cooler than him. And I have more friends than him. And I’ll be bigger than him when I’m older. That’s what Jelly says.”_

_“Is that all?”_

_“Yeah! It’s just he’s so….”_

_“So what, son?”_

_“Emotional. Like, he cries over everything. And all he does is worry about stuff.”_

_His father smiled._

_“And you think that is wrong?”_

_“Well… I mean, yes. Right? Leaders have to be tough. Like you!”_

_“You think I don’t cry?”_

_The small Maine Coon’s eyes widened._

_“You cry?”_

_“Everyone cries, Tugger. That doesn’t make them any less brave.”_

_“It…it doesn’t?”_

_“No. Do you want to know why I’m training your brother to be protector?”_

_He nodded._

_“Because he has the biggest heart of all the Jellicles. And that’s what will make him a good leader.”_

His father’s words ran through his head. As much as Munkustrap could be called a stress head or perfectionist, there was no doubt that he _cared_. He always cared. Tugger would never admit to it, but he was incredibly proud to have him as an older brother.

“I’m alright now,” he responded softly. “And clearly so is the little guy next to me. You should really get some sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, Tug. Staying awake for another couple hours shouldn’t be that hard of a task. I promised Jenny and Jelly a break anyways, especially in warding off your fan club outside.”

“You’d say you’re fine even if you were on death’s door.”

Quaxo giggled.

“Nonetheless, I’m staying here. That’s final,” Munk retorted.

Tugger sighed.

“If you insist.”

He felt a wave of exhaustion run through him. He could use another nap.

“Can I stay here too, Munkus?” Quaxo piped up.

“Of course. I see you’ve grown rather attached to my little brother.”

“You were right. He’s not _that_ bad.”

Tugger nudged the kit slightly.

“Hey, I’m pretty awesome. Admit it.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Oh, and Tugger?” Munkustrap cut in.

“What?”

“Congrats on getting the part of the Rumpus Cat.”

_What?_

“Wait, but after all this...” Tugger sputtered.

The grey tabby shrugged.

“The terms of the deal where that you _both_ be alive by this morning. You held up your end, I suppose it’s only fair I hold up mine.”

“I...uh thanks, Munk. Really.”

“You deserve it,” he said simply.

“Can I be the Rumpus Cat one day too?” Quaxo asked sweetly.

“Maybe when you’re older,” his elder brother chuckled.

“But I _am_ older.”

Tugger laid his head down, stifling a yawn. Even this small conversation was draining to him. He could vaguely hear Quaxo and Munkustrap talking in the background, but soon couldn’t make out the words as the sanctity of sleep possessed him.

#

When he woke the second time, he felt considerably better than the first.

Well, on a comparative level at least. His injuries didn’t burn quite as bad. His head throbbed slightly less. A minor improvement was better than none at all.

Quaxo was sound asleep next to Tugger.

He looked up to the rest of Jenny’s den. Munkustrap, ever keeping to his word, was still there. But he had fallen into the clutches of slumber as well.

_And he said he’d be able to stay awake..._

Jenny was also there, knitting away in the corner of the room. When she noticed that Tugger was awake, she put the needles down.

“I presume you are feeling better?”

“Well, it’s hard to feel worse.”

The tabby queen frowned.

“This isn’t funny. You could have died. _Both_ of you,” she chided, looking at Quaxo.

Tugger cringed at her tone.

“I know. I’m sorry. I _do_ feel better, though. Whatever you put on my wounds is clearly working.”

She shook her head.

“Idiot boy.” 

“See, now you sound like my brother.”

“He’s not any better than you!” she exclaimed, turning to look at the grey tabby. Munkustrap must have really been tired, he slept through the entire conversation.

“Staying up all night like that. I’m surprised either of you have _lasted_ this long!”

She paused, rubbing her temples in frustration.

“I’m gone for one night. _One night!_ And look what happens…”

“If anything, this just proves that you are the glue that holds the tribe together…”

She crossed her arms.

“Oh, enough of that, your _charm_ doesn’t work on me. If you weren’t injured I’d make you do my chores for a week, just for scaring me like that.”

“But alas, I’m confined to the bed. Poor injured Tugger…”

He could feel Quaxo squirm beside him.

Jenny’s eyes softened.

“You almost woke him up,” she murmured.

“Sorry little guy.” Tugger gave him a few good licks. The kit responded to his touch, his breathing evening out again as he burrowed himself deeper in Tugger’s side.

_I wonder if he was having a bad dream._

Jenny made her way back to her sewing needles. 

“Jenny?”

“Hm?”

“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Tugger asked, looking at Munk’s sleeping form. 

“Oh, he’ll be fine. Poor boy stresses himself out far too much. A couple of hours of sleep will do him a world of good.”

Tugger nodded.

“Yeah…I suppose it would.”

He wrapped his tail tightly around Quaxo‘s tiny body, thinking over the events of the last twelve hours. 

Tugger did what he set out to do. Well, what Munk wanted him to do. He got the kit to talk, to open up. Perhaps not in the most orthodox fashion, but then again Tugger wasn’t the most orthodox cat.

He smiled, finding comfort in spending time in the company of his family.

_Maybe I’m not such a bad babysitter after all._


End file.
